


Little Red Dress

by Flammenkobold



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Body Horror, Canon-Typical Worms, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disturbing Themes, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), F/M, Forced Arousal, Forced Orgasm, Gags, Mindfuck, Monsterfucking, Non Canon-Typical Use of Worms, Oral Fingering, Trypophobia, Vaginal Sex, Worm Dildo, Worm gag, disturbing imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:00:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23602720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flammenkobold/pseuds/Flammenkobold
Summary: Jane Prentiss returns from the dead. She is very keen on showing the Archivist her appreciation for keeping her ashes.Heed the tags.
Relationships: Jane Prentiss/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Little Red Dress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zai42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/gifts).



Leaving the cabin had been a mistake. More precisely taking Jane Prentiss ashes to the hideout before the apocalypse, then taking them with him upon leaving the cabin, tripping over and letting them scatter on the ground of an infested world had been a mistake.

Jon didn’t even know what had possessed him to take the ashes with him. It would be easy to blame it on the Web or some other compulsion. But the truth was, it had been simple nostalgia. A memento from a simpler time. 

Martin was gone. Save from the worms at least. Lost in the Lonely again, one step to the side and the air had swallowed him. Claiming what was still marked by it and Jon had found himself alone. Well not entirely alone, but in the company of a thousand worms, squirming out of the shattered jar. 

More than could possibly fit inside, a heaving, writhing mass of filth, all coming for him.

Jon rolled onto his back, scrambling away, trying to get up but to no avail. A rope of worms wound itself around his ankle and dragged him back down, cascading over his legs and keeping him down.

“Get off me!” he commanded them and for a moment they retreated. It wasn’t long enough to get himself back up, not when another wave surged from the jar, sliding over the retreating worms. Jon’s breath caught in his chest as the writhing mass carried with it a human arm, one so riddled with holes it was barely recognizable as such, flesh sunken and nearly sloughing off. Then a head with stringy black hair, an equally hole-riddled torso, another arm, legs and feet followed.

Like a creature from one of Lagorio’s horror movies Jane Prentiss crawled back into the world.

Jon let out a yell, kicked the ground and the worms again to propel himself backwards, but Prentiss was faster. Within seconds she had crawled over him, the tatters of her red dress fanning over him like spilled blood.

“What do you want!” he yelled out and it stopped the thing - Jane - atop of him. She drew out another rattling breath, the raw fleshy meat that used to be her lips twisting. In the dark cavern that lay behind her rotten teeth Jon could see her swollen, black tongue moving. And then the first rattling sound made it past her lips and Jon regretted asking.

“Hhh...uuu...h- ou...you.”

Jon was unable to look away from her, from the occasional worm dropping from the side of her mouth, the undulating movements under the remains of her skin, the way her lips turned into a smile that looked like a scream. Yet he hadn’t looked up into her eyes.

“Th- a...nk y..ou,” she continued to speak. The long nails of her spongy fingers scraped over his torso, tearing open his shirt and leaving deep grooves in his skin that immediately healed. Jon screamed in pain.

“How- what-” he gasped out, put Prentiss’ hand darted forward and closed around his throat. It was far stronger than Jon had expected given her state. The knowledge that his fear fed her slammed into him immediately. 

“Le...t me tha- nk you.” 

“Not necessary,” he croaked out and Jane’s hands closed tighter around his throat.

“Let me sh...how … you.” She leaned over him, her thighs coming to rest on either side of his hips. Her stringy, brittle hair caressed his face and as much as he wanted to turn away he couldn’t. Finally, he looked up into her eyes.

He had expected them to be sunken dark sockets, filled with worms. Instead they were clear and bright and feverish - and so full of  _ love _ . He couldn’t look away after that, not even when her fingers slipped from his throat and into his mouth. He tried to jerk back when he noticed, to grab for her wrist, to bite down. But his hands were pinned under the onslaught of worms still spilling from the jar of ashes and her fingers had the consistency of old leather and tasted even worse. Another scream formed in his mouth but nothing came out. He gagged, but all that spilled out of him was another wave of fear. 

Jane still looked at him with adoration in her eyes.

“Let me,” she gasped. Her hips twitched atop of him and with terrifying clarity he became aware of what she was about to do. “Show you.” Her fingers pressed down on his tongue, caressing the inside of his mouth. “Their song.” Her mouth turned up into a terrible smile. “My love.”

_ No, gods no. Please no. _

A whimper escaped his throat, making its way past her fingers and Jane leaned down to breathe it in.

“Don’t be afraid, Archivist.”

He bit down on her fingers hard, and thought with everything he had still left in him  _ Get! Off! Me! _

Jane cocked her head to the side, her whole body tensing up, her thighs locking around his hips. She didn’t move further. His teeth sunk as deep into her skin as his powers did into her skin, and where his teeth were met with soft yet unyielding flesh, his will was countered by a wave of deep, rotten, sickly sweet love.

“Jon,” she breathed out his name. “Don’t fight.” 

Another wave of panic surged through him and his torso convulsed upwards, a last attempt to fight, but she easily pressed him down again with her free hand, he worms wandering up his arms, undulating over his breast until he was pinned in place fully. All the while she watched him, equal parts apathy to his struggle and adoration. He could  _ see  _ it then the love of the Hive, the all encompassing twisted mockery of love. Nothing like he felt for Martin, or for Sasha and Tim and Daisy and Basira and Melanie and Georgie. This was obsessive and destructive and it was eating itself from the inside.

It was the most beautiful thing.

“Do. you. see.” Jane rasped out and watched his face closely. 

A sob wrung itself past her fingers. Jon could. He wished he didn’t. Tears leaked from his eyes at the intensity of it.

Her fingers retreated from his mouth. “Do you see, Archivist.”

“Yes,” he breathed out against his will and Jane surged down to press her mouth against his in the mockery of a kiss. Worms tumbled down his throat and he couldn’t do anything except swallow them.

The worms pinning his body down started to move in rhythmic waves, tearing and rendering his clothes, burying themselves underneath where they couldn’t. When Jane leaned back his mouth was gagged, hundreds of tiny worms formed into a ball, sticking to his teeth and the side of his mouth, now and then one falling down. 

“Good,” she said, one hand running down his naked torso now, the other lifting her dress. “Let me thank you.” Hysteria gripped him as it became clear to him how she intended to do that and he threw everything he had left in him at her. His fear mingled into his powers and the Hive greedily soaked it up, softening the blow. Jane gasped, a soft, contented thing. 

“Oh Jon,” she sighed rapturously. Her own lust creeped like tendrils into his skin. Her worms creeped over his body, a set of them settling firmly over his nipples as firmly as they clung over hers, massaging them and twisting them to the beat of her decomposed heart.

Another set creeped between his legs, pulling them apart, until some of them could creep inside of him, joining their friends that had already eaten their way through his intestines. He felt them form like a heavy clump inside him, pressing in and moving to the same beat as the others, just so. Unwanted pleasure ran through him and he let out another sob as he noticed his prick filling up and hardening under their onslaught, another spike of horror flickering out for Jane to consume.

She ate it up greedily and moaned.

One of her hands reached between her legs and Jon watched her fingers slip inside her, knew the pleasure she was feeling. An unwilling moan from him answered her. Satisfied, she moved her hand down, gripped his prick, smeared her sloughing fluids over him, gripped him tight and brought him to full hardness.

She slowly lowered herself down on him, her head thrown back, a long slash widening on the long line of her neck and Jon could see the flesh below it and the worms dropping out of it. Some landed on his stomach, burrowing into his flesh. It should have been painful, it should have been, instead a wave of ecstasy washed over him.

Jane settled down on him, her spongy insides enveloping him, warm and squishy and far too soft. Jon hated how good it felt, hated that he could feel what she felt, the hardness of his prick inside her, a pinpoint of intrusion, something to be absorbed, something to be cherished. Something full of fear. Something to be  _ loved _ .

More tears fell from his eyes and she leaned down, her tongue darting out to drink them up, her breath ghosting over his skin, over his ear in plumes of toxic air. He attempted to throw her off again, to free himself, but all it did was drive himself deeper into her. 

“Can you feel it, Jon?” 

He could, it felt wrong - it felt  _ right _ . 

Jane began to ride him in earnest then, the worms inside him matching her pace. Below her he squirmed, in disgust and fear and arousal.

Finally Jane Prentiss came, ichor gushing out between her legs and over Jon. He could feel it, a thousand voices echoing her ecstatic moan around him and inside him. It tipped him over too, to his disgust.

And then his mind went blank, drowned out by a song so sweet and all encompassing he couldn’t drown it out with all the knowledge in the world.

“Can you hear them?” the Hive asked again.

Jon could.


End file.
